The Lion in the Sett
by alatariel-gildaen
Summary: Peeta & Ron first meet on the night before the second Triwizard Task, striking up a tentative friendship. Over the years they overcome house rivalries, personal tragedies and the rise of the Dark Lord. Implied Romione/Everlark. Cover by Ro Nordmann.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - Hi, and welcome to a new WIP!**

**This idea was born out of a review of Mockingjay Pt 1 in _Time _which described Peeta as 'the Ron Weasley of the series.' Now, if he'd gone on to compare both characters' quick wit, bravery and loyalty, how they are generally amongst the most relatable characters in their respective series, and how the main protagonists of the stories woud never have survived without them, then yes, I would have agreed. But instead, the reviewer went on to describe him as 'a pasty earnest bore,' and is someone whom we only like for 'callow valour and a run of bad luck.'  
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**No. Just... No. **

**You don't make a comparison between my two favourite characters in my two favourite series, and make that comparison as a _derogatory _comment, and not expect fandoms to get cross! And so, in true fandom style, I took my annoyance out in writing a friendship story between our two heroes! This was originally supposed to be a drabble, but I kept getting more and more ideas, and this will now be a WIP in 6 parts. **

**HUGE thanks go to titania522 (ct522) for betaing this for me, and to Ro Nordmann for the stunning cover. Thank you both so much!**

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><p><em>23rd February 1995<em>

He was definitely in trouble this time. And he knew all of his friends would blame it on Katniss. Never mind that they had been friends forever, since before he had even found out that he was a wizard. Never mind that hewas the first to find out how to open the secret doorway to the kitchens, and that _he_ had suggested meeting her there tonight to take his mind away from the fact his other best mate would be competing in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament the following day. Katniss was in Slytherin, and therefore, according to the rest of his Hufflepuff classmates, she was nothing but a stab in the back waiting to happen.

He had already made several batches of iced sugar cookies and had been showing some of the house elves his personal favourite non-magical techniques for decorating cupcakes, while Katniss had been perched on the edge of the enormous table that would be directly below the Slytherin table above, delighting in the piles of food that kept getting shoved her way.

He had been delicately piping a pale yellow lemon-scented rose onto a vanilla cupcake when a sudden loud cough made him jump and squeeze the piping bag too hard, causing the perfect rose to erupt in a sweet, sticky mess.

"Been looking for you everywhere, Mr Mellark. You need to come with me." Peeta had gaped at his Head of House for a moment. He had never seen the jovial Professor look so serious. But then, he had never been caught so flagrantly breaking the rules before. Turning to Katniss, she then said in an equally serious tone, "Miss Everdeen, I'm certain you won't want Professor Snape to have to talk to you about sneaking out of the Slytherin dormitories after nightfall. Head straight back to your common room, if you would."

Katniss had jumped down from the table and walked past him in silence, giving his hand a light squeeze as she did so. The gesture was so comforting and reassuring that for a moment Peeta had forgotten the amount of trouble he was sure to be in.

But as Professor Sprout marched him out of the kitchens, his nerves returned tenfold. How she had found out where they were, he didn't know. Maybe one of Katniss' classmates had sold them out. Maybe one of his own friends? The idea made him feel even worse…

Instead of heading directly back to the nearby Hufflepuff Basement, Professor Sprout led him up several staircases, further and further away from the comfort of his common room, when an even more unnerving thought struck him. She was surely taking him directly to the headmaster.

His suspicions were confirmed when they stopped in front of a gargoyle on the third floor. "Liquorice Wand!" said Professor Sprout to the gargoyle, who immediately sprang to life and jumped to one side, revealing a moving spiral staircase behind.

"Professor, I'm really sorry," said Peeta, sensing that this was his last chance to defend himself. Knowing that he needed to protect Katniss as well, he added, "And you should know, that was the first time that Katniss had come down there with me. And I promise she didn't see how to get in, so she won't be able to go back. And—"

"You can stop with that right now, Peeta," said Professor Sprout, not unkindly. "You're not the first of my pupils to find a way in to the kitchens and you won't be the last." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "This way, then."

Her reaction was unexpected, but he didn't seem to be in trouble, or at least, not _too _much trouble, and so he took a deep breath of his own and allowed himself to be guided onto the moving staircase.

At the top of the stairs, Professor Sprout knocked on a huge oak double door. The headmaster himself opened it and stood back to allow Peeta and Professor Sprout entry. "Albus," nodded Professor Sprout towards the headmaster, as she ushered Peeta inside.

Peeta looked around in awe at the incredible room, his nerves temporarily forgotten. Even after six and a half years of being in the magical world, there were still things that could take his breath away, and the headmaster's circular office, with its delicate, spindly, whirring instruments and the countless portraits of previous headmasters looking over them, was certainly one of them.

"Well, we're all here now," said Professor Dumbledore. "But before we begin, can I offer you a tea, Mr Mellark?"

Peeta's attention was drawn back to the occupants of the room, and for the first time he realised that he was not alone. As well as Professor Dumbledore and Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall was hovering over two of her pupils, looking as stern as ever. Peeta recognised the two as Harry Potter's closest friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Professor Karkaroff was leaning against a wall, his arms folded closely across his chest, surveying the room, while Madame Maxime was fussing over a young girl, speaking to her in rapid French. Professor Moody lurked in the shadows, his strange blue eye constantly whizzing and surveying everyone.

He was temporarily taken aback by being offered tea by the headmaster, who had never once spoken to him directly. "Umm..."

"We're all having tea, and I wouldn't want you to feel like you were missing out," added Dumbledore, indicating a large, squashy armchair.

Peeta lowered himself into the seat, feeling all eyes on him. "Yes. Thank you," he said. "Milk and no sugar. Thank you."

A delicate china pot with a matching cup and saucer appeared in mid-air in front of him, pouring the tea. Peeta reached out and took the floating cup and saucer, perching it on the arm-rest of his chair.

"Would you like a biscuit to go with that? Or a cupcake perhaps?" asked Dumbledore. He waved his wand and a tray carrying the very cookies and cupcakes that Peeta had made hovered in the air in front of him. The headmaster's eyes twinkled, and Peeta felt as if he were being x-rayed, when Dumbledore said, "I must say, the house-elves do seem to have outdone themselves tonight. I can't recall the last time I ate anything quite so delicious."

His cheeks flushed deep red as he took one of the iced cookies from the tray. "Thank you," he mumbled. It was a strange situation, but he certainly didn't feel anymore as if he were about to get expelled. Or even detention.

"Well, to business, then," said Dumbledore. "I'm not about to pretend that none of you have an inkling as to what your friends or family are facing in the Second Triwizard Task tomorrow. I'm certain many of you have even offered as much help to your friends as possible."

'_Shit',_ he thought desperately, as his stomach lurched uncomfortably. '_Shit, shit, shit'. _This wasn't about getting caught in the kitchens sneaking extra food. This was about cheating in a major international tournament. Of course he'd helped Cedric with the egg clue. How could he not? They'd sat up together until the early hours of the morning researching ways to survive underwater. And he'd been helping Cedric practice the Bubble-Head charm all week. He glanced over towards Ron and Hermione who looked equally as guilty. They must have been caught helping Potter. The only anomaly was the young girl—how could she possibly have been helping Fleur with the clue? And no wonder Karkaroff looked so furious… Krum must have been the only person working as the tournament intended…

"And I thank you for the help you have offered so far, but we will require one more piece of assistance from you all. The Champions all have an hour to find something that has been taken from them, something that they will miss the most." Dumbledore looked over the edge of his spectacles at everyone, while at the same time, Hermione Granger gasped.

"You mean…?" she asked.

"Quite right, Miss Granger, astute as always. The Champions will be searching for you."

"For us?" said Ron.

"That's correct, Mr Weasley."

He could see Madame Maxime translating everything to the young girl, whom he presumed must be Fleur's sister, trying to keep the small girl calm.

Meanwhile, he was not doing a great job of keeping himself calm. Peeta felt a suffocating pressure on his lungs. Yes, he'd been helping Cedric learn how to perform the Bubble-Head. But he hadn't been learning it himself. And there was yet another pressing matter that needed to be addressed.

"But I can't swim," he admitted in a panic, thinking about the depth and breadth of the great lake.

"None of you need to be able to. You will all be placed under an enchanted sleep, and will not wake until you come above the surface of the water. I will perform the spell myself, and I assure you, you will all be quite safe."

"But… the rhyme…" said Ron, dawning horror apparent in his voice.

The words drifted through Peeta's mind: _But past an hour, the prospect's black, Too late, it's gone, it won't come back… _If they weren't found within the hour time limit…

"Honestly, Mr Weasley, I sometimes wonder if you have the wit you were born with," snapped McGonagall. "I would hope you would realise not to take the rhyme so seriously. As if we would allow any of you to die!"

Ron shrunk in his chair, the tips of his ears going visibly pinker, and Peeta felt an endearing gratitude towards Ron for voicing his concerns first, and offered the younger lad an encouraging smile.

In something of a huff, Ron took a large, appreciative bite out of one of the cupcakes. "'Ang abou —" he said thickly through the mouthful of frosting. "Oos Krum lookin for?" He swallowed, thankfully clearing his mouth before continuing. "Harry's looking for us, pretty boy's going for his twin over there, Fleur's s searching for her sister… What about Krum? Has he been disqualified?" he added hopefully.

The slight against him stung somewhat, particularly given his earlier feeling of gratitude. And as such, he couldn't help but feel a slight sense of satisfaction at Ron's reaction, when Dumbledore said, "Mr Krum will be coming for Miss Granger, of course."

Ron's jaw dropped, while beside him a pink tinge crept across Hermione's cheeks. "What?" he demanded. "That's not right!"

"Ron, please d—"

"No! What d'you mean, she's the thing he'll miss the most. He barely knows her!"

"Ron!" Hermione whispered, and Peeta couldn't help but notice how her eyes glistened slightly. Clearly there was some latent jealousy at work here.

"Anyway," said Peeta, trying to draw attention away from the feuding friends to save their embarrassment. "What do you need us to do? Do we come back here tomorrow morning?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "I'm afraid I am unable to send you back to your respective dormitories. I think our Champions already know quite enough about what they are going to face tomorrow. We can't allow them to know _too _much more, now can we? No, you will be staying in a temporary dormitory here instead. Boys to one room, girls in another, naturally. And in the morning we can all dine together before you'll be placed into the enchanted sleep and whisked down to the bottom of the lake," he finished, beaming widely.

He said it so nonchalantly, as if being placed in a strange sleep-state and left alone at the bottom of a huge lake full of mermaids, grindylows, a giant squid, and goodness only knows what else was akin to a Sunday walk in the park.

"Well, it's sure to be a busy day tomorrow, so I suggest you get some _natural_ rest while you still can. Any questions?"

"Do we get a choice in this?" asked Ron.

Dumbledore's smile widened even further. "Not at all," he answered. "Now, to bed, all of you." He pointed his wand towards one wall, and two doors immediately appeared. "Gentleman on the left, ladies to the right, please."

Madame Maxime led the small girl towards the dorm, chattering away in French. Rubbing her eyes, Hermione said, "Good night everyone," before she stood up and walked towards the right-hand door.

"Say hello to _Victor _tomorrow," said Ron, staring straight ahead.

Hermione paused for the briefest of seconds, visibly lifted her chin slightly higher, and continued towards her temporary dorm. As soon as the door closed, Ron stood up and stormed towards the boys' dorm, grabbing the plate of Peeta's cookies on the way past.

There was an awkward silence in the Headmaster's office for a few moments, broken by Dumbledore's words. "Shakespeare said it best. _The course of true love never did run smooth._" He chuckled to himself, and the words resonated deeply with Peeta. He and Katniss had been close since childhood; it was Katniss who had first told Peeta that the strange things he could do meant that he was a wizard; it was Katniss who stole her mother's bruise paste every time Peeta's uncontrolled magic burst out of him, and his mother retaliated violently; and it was Katniss who comforted him on the train on their first day of school, when Peeta's mother had told him that if he continued on this path, he'd end up dead, and rightfully so.

And in the past couple of years, Peeta couldn't help but notice how beautiful his friend was becoming. If only he had the courage to act on his burgeoning feelings... They had gone to the Yule Ball together, but she had made it very clear that they were going as friends, nothing more, because she was concerned that Gale Hawthorne, another childhood friend of hers, was going to ask her out, and she wanted a perfect, ready-made excuse to say no. And Peeta had agreed to the charade, despite the fact that he had secretly wanted so much more…But like Shakespeare's eponymous lovers, the fact that they were in different houses had not made the course of their friendship run easy; most of his classmates, bar Cedric, were convinced Katniss would prove to be a Dark witch, and most of Katniss' classmates were repelled by his Muggleborn status. Dumbledore's words, while clearly intended to be about Ron and Hermione, were quite an unexpected comfort.

When Peeta looked up, he was quite disconcerted to see that the Headmaster's piercing gaze was fixed upon him, a tiny half-smile pulling up the corners of his lips, and Peeta felt his face flood with colour. Was Dumbledore insinuating more than it first seemed?

"Thank you again for the cakes, Mr Mellark," said Dumbledore, reaching for another. "They really are quite remarkable."

"You're welcome, sir," mumbled Peeta as he turned an even brighter shade of scarlet. "Umm… If there's any left, can they please get sent down to the Common Room? It's just that I promised my friends and— "

"I'll see to it." Everyone looked up as Madame Maxime returned to the office. "Now, we have a few things that need to be discussed, and I'm quite sure you need your rest. Any questions you have can be answered in the morning. Good night, Mr Mellark."

Peeta nodded and slowly walked towards the dorm. He was not looking forward to spending an entire night with someone in such a bad mood as Ron. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the wooden door open and spied the boy sitting on one of the beds, angrily munching on an iced cookie.

"Hey," said Peeta, closing the door behind him.

Ron looked up momentarily, and then returned his attention to the plate. "Don't feel like you need to make conversation with me," he said. "Feel free to go straight to sleep. I promise I won't think any less of you."

"Ok," said Peeta, taken aback. "Yeah, we could sit here in an awkward silence. Sounds like a lot of fun to me. Or we could talk. I reckon it'll make the time pass faster."

"Look, mate," said Ron, still not looking up at him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want anything to do with you." He took another large bite of a cookie, and made a small, appreciative groan.

"Fair enough," said Peeta, taking out his wand. He pointed it at the plate and muttered, "_Accio,"_ sending the remaining cookies zooming into his left hand.

"What the hell?" complained Ron, as Peeta sat down on the edge of his bed, kicked off his shoes and put his feet up.

"You don't want anything to do with me," shrugged Peeta as he selected an iced cookie. The one he had decorated with katniss flowers was still there and intact. He smiled to himself before taking a small bite. "And as I made these, I figured that request probably extended to them as well."

"You didn't make them," said Ron, a frown creasing his brow.

Peeta shrugged once again, taking another bite of the cookie. Not bad, but he really should have added cinnamon to the dough…

"I said you didn't make them," repeated Ron. "Did you?"

Peeta nodded as he finished the last bite, before he selected another, this one decorated with lavender. He didn't really want another, but if making the younger boy jealous meant that he wouldn't be spending the evening sitting in an uncomfortable silence then he reasoned that it was worth it.

"How?" demanded Ron.

"Pretty simple. Flour, sugar, butter—"

"That's not… I mean… How?"

"Our Common Room is right by the kitchens. I've been sneaking in there to bake for years."

"Why?"

Peeta shrugged once again. "We all need a way to relax, right? Some people play Quidditch, some people play Gobstones, some people read, some people play chess… I bake. I always have done."

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can I have another?"

Peeta nodded and smiled, handing the remaining stack of cookies back to his room-mate. Ron selected one at random and took a bite. "They're really good," he said, almost absent-mindedly.

"Thanks. Got to be good at something, I suppose."

"You're pretty good at Quidditch."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably on the bed for a moment. "You were on the team last year, right? You nearly had Harry off his broom several times."

Peeta thought back to the opening match the year before and shuddered. He'd made it onto the team for the first time, and after that match against Gryffindor, he'd retired straight away. Yes, they'd won, yes, he'd played a strong game, but… he recalled the Dementors at the match; the dreadful, suffocating cold that had penetrated his lungs at their arrival; his mother's hateful words echoing through his mind; the physical pain of every single time she had struck him. He'd managed to land safely, but only just, barely aware that Potter had fallen from a great height, and that Cedric had won the match for them.

Madame Pomfrey treated him with chocolate and sent him on his way, but he couldn't quite forget that terrifying feeling, nor could he help associating that feeling with the game itself. He felt nothing but relief that Cedric hadn't managed to secure a rematch, for it meant that the team would have time to find and train a new Beater.

"Yeah," said Peeta slowly. "It… wasn't really for me."

"Really? I'd love to be on the team one day. I mean, the pressure's already on, most of my family have been on the Gryffindor team, and everyone kind of expects it of me, but—"

"It is what _you_ want, right? Not just what you think everyone _else_ wants?"

Ron looked at Peeta incredulously. "Yes, it's what I want," he snapped

"I didn't mean to offend you," said Peeta. "I'm sorry." There was a loud screech as a huge owl flew past the window, attracting both boys' attention. "Must be hard, though. Growing up with so much expectation on you."

Ron fell silent. "I guess so," he said eventually.

"It's bad enough for me," added Peeta. "I've got two older brothers, and even now my folks keep expecting me to 'give up this magic phase' and come and work for the family business, like they do."

"They're wizards too?"

"No. Just me. So they have all these expectations that after my education I'm going to come home and live like a Muggle, but how can I, knowing what I know now?"

"Sounds tough," said Ron. "But try having five older brothers who have all been really successful in the world you're living in, knowing that you have those expectations piled on you, not just from your family, but from all your teachers as well."

Peeta chuckled quietly. "And then you go and make best friends with the most famous wizard around, and a genius as well? Sounds like you're a glutton for punishment." He withered slightly under the glare that Ron shot him. "I'm sorry, mate. I'm just kidding," he said, holding his hands up placatingly. "Anyway, I'm hardly one to talk about being overshadowed by my best mates."

The hint of a smile crossed Ron's face, as he tucked into the final cookie. "I'm sure it's not that bad. Besides, anyone who can cook like this has to be ok in my book."

"Thanks," smiled Peeta. "Maybe if I can convince the board of governors to introduce baking as a NEWT, I'll end up with some decent qualifications after all."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad. You're still here. I doubt I'll be allowed to stay on after my OWLs. Unless they let me copy Hermione."

"Yeah. It's always handy having a mate who can help you out. And if they're easy on the eyes too… So much the better."

"What are you saying about Hermione?"

"What?" said Peeta, feigning innocence. "I was talking about my friend, Katniss. I'd never have got into NEWT Potions or Transfiguration without her help. And, well… studying isn't so much of a chore if you've got someone nice to look at, am I right?"

Instead of answering directly, Ron looked out of the window. "Hermione's a really good study partner," he said quietly, gazing into the far distance. He suddenly shook himself, and was back in the room. "What's Cedric doing tomorrow to get you out, then?"

His impending fate hit him like a ton of bricks. Despite Dumbledore's reassurances that they would all be perfectly safe, Peeta couldn't help but worry. The idea of being at the bottom of that cold, vast lake, asleep, unable to move, unable to defend himself at all…He shuddered slightly, hoping that Ron hadn't noticed. "I don't suppose it matters telling you at this stage," he said. "He's doing the Bubble-Head Charm. Hardly original, I know, but it works, at least."

"The what?" asked Ron.

"Bubble-Head. You know, it creates an air bubble around your head that holds even under water. I mean, I know that's not what it was created for. Apparently, Wilbur Locksworthy originally created it so he could always have a supply of fresh, clean air when he visited his infirm mother in hospital, as of course hospitals weren't as sterile back then as they are now, but the fact that it works under water is ideal for the purposes of the task. I'd think that's probably what everyone will be doing, won't it?"

"Maybe," said Ron, looking decidedly green-skinned all of a sudden. It struck Peeta that despite all their best efforts, maybe the three fourth-year students hadn't actually found a solution to the under water problem.

"What's Harry doing?" he asked delicately.

"Probably that….bubble….thing," said Ron, looking even more panicked than before.

"I'm sure whatever he does, he'll be ok," said Peeta.

"Yeah, of course he'll be _ok. _Dumbledore's looking out for us. He's not gonna let us get hurt, and he's not gonna let them get hurt either. It's just… I want Harry to win."

"Of course you do. But there's no shame in not winning."

"Spoken like a true Hufflepuff."

"Spoken like a true realist, I think you'll find. He's entered a competition designed to put the abilities of witches and wizards three years older than him to the limit. And I admit, he did phenomenally in the first task. But—"

"How many times do we have to tell you people before you listen?" shouted Ron. Angry red splotches coloured his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Harry _didn't_ enter. Someone's trying to hurt him!"

"Ok, ok," said Peeta. He'd forgotten who he was speaking to for a moment. He had indeed heard the young Gryffindors' theory that someone else had entered Harry's name into the Goblet. Some of his classmates had dismissed the idea entirely, convinced that Harry had entered himself. Peeta didn't know what to think. He couldn't see any reason why someone else would enter Harry's name, nor how they could have done it under Dumbledore's nose, and equally he couldn't see how Harry could have possibly convinced the Goblet that he was either old enough or that Hogwarts was allowed two champions. "But like you said, Dumbledore's not going to let anyone get hurt, so if he loses, no harm done, and he can't be ashamed at not knowing what he hasn't learned yet." He chuckled to himself. "If it was me in the tournament, the best I could hope for would be to die as myself, and not make a complete fool out of myself in the process. So he's already one up on me."

Ron shifted uncomfortably for a second or two. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry if I'm snapping. It's just—"

"I know," said Peeta. "You're worried. Me too."

"It's not just Harry," admitted Ron. "Hermione's my best friend too, and she's…" He trailed off, and suddenly became very interested in picking at a piece of loose cotton on the duvet cover.

"She'll be perfectly fine," assured Peeta.

"Yeah. With _Victor."_

"I'm pretty sure she's as surprised at being deemed the person he's most likely to miss as you are. I mean, look at Fleur. They were able to bring someone over for her from France. Couldn't they get someone from home for him, too? Maybe he doesn't have many friends. Maybe there simply wasn't anyone else for him. If you think about it, it's quite sad, really."

"Yeah," said Ron, a slight smile crossing his face. "It _is _sad." He looked up and made eye contact with Peeta. "Thanks," he said, his grin widening.

"No problem."

"Look… Good luck for tomorrow. Don't get me wrong. I still want Harry to win. But… I guess it wouldn't be so bad if it's a Hogwarts victory at least."

"You too."

Ron reached under his pillow and pulled out a neatly folded pair of red tartan pyjamas, then stood up and walked towards the adjacent bathroom. Peeta lay back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head, when he heard another loud screech at the window. A handsome tawny owl was perched on the windowsill, scratching at the window to get in. He quickly opened the window, and the owl flew inside, circling the room once, before dropping a sealed letter on Peeta's bed, and flying straight back outside into the night air.

Peeta quickly tore the envelope open, immediately recognising the neat cursive on the envelope as Katniss' handwriting.

_Really missed you tonight. Hope you're ok and not in too much trouble. I nearly got caught by Professor Snape on my way back in! That won't stop me going out again to send this to you though. _

_I know you've been worried, but I just wanted to let you know that whatever happens tomorrow, he'll be ok! And I'm putting in a special request_—_chocolate orange cupcakes please. You can make them for me tomorrow night. Just because I'm right and I didn't get any of them tonight, and I'm a really good friend for making you feel better._

_Give Prim a hug from me, and tell her that her sister loves her._

_Sleep well, and see you in the morning_

_K xxx_

He re-read the letter several times, beaming widely, then folded the letter up and neatly tucked it into his robes. The evening was turning out to be better than expected, after all.

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><p><strong>AN - Thanks for reading, please do leave a review, and come say hi on tumblr - username alatarielgildaen :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Thank you for reading, folks! Hope you enjoy this second installment. So...I should warn you - this chapter contains a character death. But, to be honest, if you've read Harry Potter, it's not exactly unexpected...:\**_  
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**Anyway, huge thanks to Titania522/ct522 for betaing this for me, to Ro Nordmann for the banner, and to xthegirlwithkaleidoscopeeyesx for her unending Potter expertise! You are all beautiful people!**

**Some of the dialogue is taken straight from Goblet of Fire, so many thanks to JK Rowling for her input into this fic as well!**

**Please do leave a review, and come say hello on tumblr :)**

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><p><em><strong>24<strong>__**th**__** June 1995**_

"He'll be fine."

"Ok."

"Peeta, are you even listening to me? I swear you're worrying more than he is!"

"Ok, Katniss! I'll just be grateful when he's won and it's over, that's all."

The Quidditch stadium was completely unrecognisable, with the vast hedge maze that had been grown over the grounds. He and Katniss made their way up into the stands and picked through the crowds, trying to find a decent spot. As they edged their way past a group of giggling Ravenclaw third years, Katniss added, "What would you have done if I'd been old enough to enter?"

Peeta shot her a dark look. "Don't. If you'd been taking part in this, I'd have done everything I could to volunteer in your place. Or at least alongside you."

They finally came across a relatively empty block of seats, and sat down together. "Really?" asked Katniss. "You'd throw yourself in the firing line to protect me?"

"Hell, yes," he answered fervently. "A thousand times over."

Katniss fell silent as she gazed into the middle distance. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely audible over the noise from the stadium.

Her grey eyes reflected the red, orange and yellow of the last of the sunset, making her look as if she were filled with fire. Peeta had never seen anyone so beautiful, so radiant, and he wanted desperately to tell her, to admit his feelings. He opened his mouth, hoping that the right words would follow, when a massive cheer erupted around the stadium, followed shortly after by a magically magnified voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, on eighty-five points each—Mr Ceddric Diggory and Mr Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!"

Peeta and Katniss cheered along with the rest of the stadium, and the noise was almost deafening.

"In second place, on eighty points—Mr Victor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place—Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy! So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three…two…one…"

A whistle blew, echoing all around the stadium, and at that moment, both Cedric and Harry ran towards the maze, disappearing moments later.

The stadium held its collective breath, the seconds dragging past until a second whistle blew, and Krum ran towards the maze. All eyes fell on Fleur, the lone Champion waiting for her turn, chomping at the bit to be allowed to enter the maze. At long last, the final whistle blew, and Fleur stormed towards the entrance.

The second she vanished, the dim light of dusk was illuminated by the brightest, most elaborate fireworks that Peeta had ever seen. Beside him, Katniss shifted very slightly in her seat, leaning her head against his shoulder. He reminded himself that she only sat that way so she could comfortably watch the fireworks without straining her neck, but he still wanted to place his arm around her and pull her closer. He resisted the urge with all his might, not wanting to do anything that would disturb her.

Slowly, tentatively, hoping with all of his being that she wouldn't move, Peeta tilted his own head to gently rest against hers. He let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes momentarily, the flashes from the fireworks still visible through his eyelids.

"I don't know why we couldn't stay down there, with my family," said an annoyed, familiar voice.

"Because we'll get a far better view of the entertainment from up here."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be right there when Harry wins."

"Oh, Ron. I'm sure he'll be far too busy accepting his prize from the Minister for Magic to notice us."

Peeta half-opened his eyes, and could see Ron and Hermione heading towards them, Hermione in the lead.

"He'll want to see us first."

"But in the meantime, if we're down there we'll miss most of the entertainment. We don't know how long this will take, so we may as well enjoy ourselves in the meantime."

"Besides," interrupted Peeta, a wide grin on his face. "He's not going to win anyway. Cedric is."

Both Ron and Hermione looked up sharply, ready to defend their friend, but relaxed somewhat when they saw who had spoken.

"We'll see," said Ron.

Katniss sat up a little straighter, and Peeta immediately felt the absence of her warm weight. "This is Katniss, by the way. Katniss—this is Ron, Hermione. We all enjoy hanging out at the bottom of lakes together."

Both the young Gryffindors looked at Katniss suspiciously, and Peeta felt Katniss wither slightly under their stares.

"She's my best friend," he added.

"Pleased to meet you," said Hermione after just a moment's hesitation, inclining her head ever so slightly towards Katniss.

"You too," said Katniss, in an oddly formal voice.

Peeta took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The hostility between Gryffindor and Slytherin was well known, but he'd never seen the point of automatically disliking someone he'd never even spoken to before. But he didn't want to draw any attention to the tension in the air; acknowledging it would only make Katniss feel worse. If they could all just get to know each other, the air would be cleared. "Are you going to sit with us?" he asked lightly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron shrugged subtly before taking a seat next to Peeta. No sooner had the two of them sat down, then a loud flash of light erupted around the stadium. Incredible fireworks flashed and banged every few seconds, and Katniss once again rested her head on Peeta's shoulder.

A terrifying screech from behind them caught their attention, and everyone in the stadium turned. Several people screamed. Speeding towards them at breakneck velocity, accompanied by twelve witches and wizards each, were the dragons from the first task, all flying in formation.

They tumbled and turned, twisted and soared, each dragon with their twelve handlers creating an intricate dance routine, and the audience cheered and whooped with every spectacular move.

Without disturbing the girl on his shoulder, Peeta opened a paper bag and withdrew a chocolate cookie, handing it to her, and taking a cinnamon one for himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ron eyeing the bag, and silently passed the remaining cookies to him.

"You sure?" Ron asked.

Peeta nodded. "Go ahead."

"Cheers, mate," he enthused, digging in with gusto.

They hadn't been sat together for long, before Peeta heard a familiar drawling voice. His stomach dropped as he heard Cato Hadley say, "Typical. All the good seats have been taken."

He dropped down slightly in his seat, hoping that Cato wouldn't spot him. Ever since their first week at Hogwarts, Cato had taken a severe dislike to him. During their first charms lesson—the first lesson that Hufflepuff had shared with Slytherin—Cato had realised that he was Muggleborn. That would have made him a prime target in Cato's eyes as it was, but his pre-existing friendship with Katniss compounded Cato's dislike. And then, to make matters worse, during that first lesson Flitwick had greatly praised Peeta's wandwork, while criticising Cato's. Cato had taken the slight very personally, and had sought out every opportunity since to make Peeta's life miserable.

"There are still some seats in the stands nearest the changing rooms," came another voice. It belonged to Marvel Renard, Cato's closest friend.

_Go,_ thought Peeta desperately. _Please, go…_

"Wait a minute," said Cato. Peeta could hear the cruel smirk in his voice, and he sank down even further in his seat. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up."

He grit his teeth, waiting for the inevitable taunt, as he heard footsteps behind him. Predictably enough, it came just moments later. "Hey, Everdeen," called Cato. "Why don't you ditch the loser and come sit with me instead."

"Get lost, Cato," said Katniss, not deigning to look over her shoulder at him.

"Aww, come on Everdeen," he said, sitting down directly behind Peeta. Peeta held his tongue as Cato deliberately kicked the back of his chair. "You're so much better than the company you keep, and you'd look so good on my arm. Or… on something else," he smirked, giving one more hard kick to the back of Peeta's seat.

Peeta turned around, fighting to maintain his calm. "She told you to get lost, Cato. I'm going to trust that she doesn't need to say it a second time."

Cato looked around in confusion. "Did anyone else hear that?" he said, straining as if to hear better. "It sounded like a Mudblood pretending to be my equal."

Peeta sat back down in his seat, doing his best to ignore Cato. It was nothing he hadn't heard a thousand times before. However, both Katniss and Ron turned towards Cato, shouting at him for his horrible slur. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a slight movement, as Hermione surreptitiously pulled her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it over her shoulder towards Cato. She whispered a word under her breath, and immediately the chair that Cato was sat on crumpled beneath him, disintegrating into dust.

"What the fuck—?" Cato leapt to his feet. "Which of you did that?" he shouted, while at the same time Hermione whispered, "_Furnunculus," _and suddenly ugly, red boils were sprouting up all over Cato's face. She flourished her wand in a complicated motion just as Cato turned towards her, and shouted, "_Impertabatum!"_

Cato was suddenly silenced. He still appeared to be shouting at them but not a single sound made it to their ears. He reached for his wand and pointed it at Hermione, and at that moment, Peeta, Katniss, and Ron all reached for their wands, pointing them back at Cato.

"Don't!" shouted Hermione. "Just… watch."

Cato's wand cut through the air, and a flash of light came hurtling straight towards Hermione. But after just a couple of feet, it seemed to hit an invisible wall and rebounded, knocking Cato to the ground. His eyes fell closed and he did not stir.

"Is he ok?" Peeta asked, tucking his wand away in his robes.

"Who cares?" said Ron, sitting back down. "That was bloody brilliant, Hermione."

"Thanks," she said, a rosy pink tinge colouring her cheeks.

"What did you do?" asked Katniss.

"It's a variation of the Imperturbable Charm," said Hermione. "It creates a temporary barrier that can't be crossed by anything; people, objects, sound… or weak to mediocre magic. I don't know how long it will last, or how long he'll be knocked out, for that matter…"

Peeta glanced sideways towards Hermione. Her reputation for being bright and talented clearly wasn't unfounded. And Peeta couldn't help but notice the look of pride on Ron's face as the boy said, "It'll hold, Hermione. You cast it."

"That was some pretty incredible spell-casting," agreed Peeta.

"Thank you," said Hermione.

"She's had plenty of practise. We've got Malfoy in our year," explained Ron. "It'd be easier if they just got rid of all the Slytherins, don't you think?"

Peeta felt Katniss tense up and shrink next to him. "No," said Peeta. "I don't."

"Oh, shit…I didn't mean…"

"It's fine," said Katniss tersely.

"No, it's not," said Peeta. "Look, I get it. You've clearly had a problem with this Malfoy guy, just like I've had problems with Cato. But you can't tar everyone with the same brush. There are decent people in Slytherin just as much as there are absolute arseholes in the other houses too. Bloody hell, I'd curse my own leg off before I willingly spend any time with Zacharias Smith."

"Who?"

"He's in third year. Absolute idiot. Believe me, five minutes in his company and you'll no longer be of the opinion that it's just Slytherin that produces dickheads."

Ron snorted loudly. "I'll bear that in mind if I ever have the displeasure of meeting him, cheers."

Immediately, the atmosphere was much clearer, and both Ron and Hermione seemed much more accepting of Katniss. Every now and again, Katniss checked on Cato, who still seemed to be out cold. "You'll have to teach me that spell, Hermione. I think I could make a lot of use of it."

Peeta looked over his shoulder at Cato's prone figure. "Do you think we should move to different seats before he comes round?" he asked.

"It might be a good idea," said Hermione. "I don't know how long the barrier will hold, and he's likely to be really very upset when he wakes up."

"We can go back and sit with my family," suggested Ron. "And it means we'll be closer to Harry—I mean,whoever wins—when they finish."

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Peeta. "If you're sure your family won't mind the intrusion."

"Nah, it's fine. And if you, y'know, want to give my mum your recipe for the cookies, I won't complain."

"I dunno…it's an old family recipe. My mum would kill me if she ever found out I'd given it away. And trust me….she'd find out."

"Hah! Fair enough. And to be honest, my mum would probably kill anyone who dared to suggest they could cook better than her."

"Yeah… I'll keep it to myself then, if you don't mind. I don't fancy my chances against two angry mothers."

With one last glance towards Cato, the four students made their way to the lower stands. At first, when the Weasleys heard that Katniss and Peeta were supporting Cedric rather than Harry, they had been a little stand-offish, although they soon warmed to the newcomers, especially when the family's patriarch had found out that Peeta was Muggleborn. Hermione flashed Peeta an understanding smile. Apparently Mr. Weasley had, over the last four years, already learned all that he could about the Muggle art of dental hygiene, but baking without magic was an entirely new subject to be tapped. He wanted to know absolutely everything he could about the difference between gas ovens and electric ones, electric-powered kitchen appliances, even the art of waiting patiently for dough to rise.

Time with the Weasley family passed pleasantly. The live music and entertainment coupled with the warm, balmy evening, provided a perfect backdrop to the good conversation with a loving family; something that his own home-life was sorely lacking. When Mr. Weasley said that Peeta and Katniss would be welcome to stay with them at some time over the holidays, Peeta was most enthusiastic with his reply.

Without warning, a loud crack rent the air, and at that moment someone appeared in front of the maze's entrance. It was finally over! Relief washed over him that, at long last, his best mate was safe. However, he still felt strangely anxious, and that feeling was amplified when, all of a sudden, someone screamed.

Peeta stood up in his seat in order to try and get a better look. There was more than one figure in front of the maze, and they appeared to be hugging. Peeta could just about make out the blond locks of Cedric, who seemed to be lying down.

The screaming grew louder by degrees. "What the…?" he said.

"Harry…" whispered Ron, and Peeta became aware that the young red-head was barging his way through the crowds to try and get out of the stands and closer to his friend.

But Harry was moving. He was clearly distressed, but he was moving. It was Cedric that Peeta was worried for. His best mate was utterly and unnaturally still. He swallowed heavily, his throat painfully dry, and began to push his way through the thronging crowds. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, and briefly looked back. It was Katniss; fear and worry clouded her eyes and she shook her head very slightly. Peeta shrugged her away and pushed further into the hordes of people.

As he neared the centre of the gasping crowds, he heard a familiar voice, and his heart froze. "My son!" wept the voice, over and over, and it was tinged with the endless sorrow and grief of loss. "My son!"

Time stood still as he drew nearer, and the crowds seemed to part before him.

Cedric was lying on the ground, his eyes open and unseeing. Amos Diggory cradled his son's body in his arms, lamenting his only child's death.

The world no longer seemed real; everything floated past in a dream-like state. Peeta was vaguely aware of Ron's voice, demanding to know of Harry's whereabouts, and Hermione replying that she had seen him with Professor Moody. Peeta swatted the words away like an annoying mosquito. It didn't matter where Harry was. If he was with Moody, he was safe. He was whole. He was alive.

Unlike his best friend. He dropped to his knees, unable to keep himself from staring into Cedric's blank, grey eyes.

He felt a gentle embrace around his shoulders and found himself staring into another pair of grey eyes, and they were kind, worried and very much alive. Katniss pulled Peeta into her shoulder, and held him as he began to shed tears for the loss of his dear friend.

* * *

><p><em><strong>July 2<strong>__**nd**__** 1995**_

The Leaving Feast was usually a cause for celebration. The black drapes that replaced the usual decorations in the Great Hall heralded the sombre mood. None of his class-mates were feeling particularly talkative, and this suited Peeta perfectly. He stayed silent through all three courses, barely touching any of the food that appeared before him.

A hush descended over the already quiet Hall. With a great effort, Peeta lifted his head towards the teacher's table, where Dumbledore stood, waiting for complete silence.

"The end of another year," he said, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table, lingering on Peeta and the empty space at the table next to him. Peeta looked away, unable to hold the Headmaster's penetrating gaze.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person who should be sitting here, enjoying our Feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

It took all of his effort to stand and raise his glass, and his eyes immediately clouded over. The past week had been nothing but a blur; meaningless condolences from unknown faces, but it was the Headmaster's words that truly shook him. It had taken until now for it to truly sink in; he would never see Cedric again. As everyone else sat back down, he collapsed heavily to his seat, a deep, shuddering breath racking his entire body.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities which distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend." —Peeta swallowed another shuddering cry— "a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

Peeta raised his gaze once more towards the Headmaster. There had been a lot of speculation over the past week. Some people had suggested that Cedric had died as a result of his own ineptitude, others that he had been murdered by Harry Potter in a fit of jealousy. Peeta didn't know what to believe, but he didn't want to believe either of those answers.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A wave of cold dread washed over him. He glanced around the Hall at the other students who were all whispering together, looks of abject horror on their faces.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned , or because they think that I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as a result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory. There is someone else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

Another susurration passed around the Hall. Peeta looked straight towards where Potter sat, trying desperately not to make eye contact with the many faces who were trying to catch his gaze.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," continued Dumbledore, and Peeta dragged his attention back to the teachers' table. "He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for that, I honour him."

Peeta barely heard the rest of Dumbledore's speech. He raised his goblet towards Harry, along with the rest of the school, but was lost in his own thoughts as Dumbledore continued to speak. He Who Must Not Be Named… returned…

He tried to picture the manner of Cedric's death, and found himself retching on the horror of it. All the stories he had heard, and all the histories that he had read regarding the great Wizarding War… they surely could not be about to repeat themselves.

Dumbledore was still talking, and Peeta shifted his attention back to the Headmaster's words. "A week ago a student was taken from our midst. Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

The room raised their goblets once again, and as Dumbledore took his seat, hushed whisperings echoed around the room. The subject of the whispers was all the same; the return of You Know Who. Peeta paid them no mind. Eventually, the Great Hall began to empty, and Peeta became aware of a presence beside him. He looked up to see Katniss, her face full of concern.

"You ok?" Katniss asked.

"Uh-huh," he nodded. "You?"

"Are you really ok?" she asked, sitting beside him and taking his hands in her own.

"I don't know how to answer that without being negative," he admitted, chuckling a humourless laugh.

"Then be honest."

She sat down by his side, and gently squeezed his hands. "No," he said at long last. "No. I'm pretty fucking far from ok."

She stayed silent a while, and Peeta watched, almost detached, as her thumb traced circles over the back of his hand.

"I wish I could say something to help," said Katniss.

Peeta looked up into her stormy eyes. Words never were her strong point. He licked his suddenly dry lips and leaned his forehead against hers, letting out another shuddering breath as he did so. She let go of his hand, and gently wiped the wetness from his cheek with the pad of her thumb. His eyes fell closed as time stood still, and he held his breath with anticipation.

"As touching as this is," came a snide voice, and Katniss immediately pulled away from Peeta, a pink flush tinging her cheeks. Peeta looked up into the twisted face of Professor Snape, who looked more than happy to break them up. "The Feast is over, and as such you both should be heading back to your dormitories."

"Sorry, sir," she breathed, as she stood up and smoothed away the creases from her robes. With one last half-smile towards Peeta, she turned away and walked from the Great Hall.

"You too, Mr Mellark."

He grit his teeth and nodded, not wanting to say anything in case his irritation at the interruption got either himself or Katniss into trouble. Dragging himself to his feet, he took one last look at the seat beside him that had remained empty for the entirety of the feast, and it was with a sense of dread that he left the Great Hall, knowing that his future, and the future of everyone he cared about was far from safe and certain.


End file.
